One Song: book two in the one series

by Best, Victoria J.

  “I’m here.” I blew out a breath as I said the words, as if all the anxiety and fear I was bottling up inside for the last few hours were being released.

  “I told you not to come.” Stubbornness had her lifting her chin, and I could tell she was trying to shake off the vulnerability she gave away on the phone.

  “I told you it didn’t matter, and that I was coming to New York anyway.” I wasn’t letting her push me away this time.

  “I’m fine now. We’re fine.” Natalie shook her head as she spoke. I wondered how long she was going to keep up the charade.

  “Why did you call me if you were fine?” As I spoke, I traveled closer to her, standing right over where she sat in the chair. She had to look up to see my face and I could see the emotions she was trying to hide now shining from her hazel eyes.

  “I thought it was time I finally told you the truth. But I shouldn’t have done it the way that I did, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want you to come all the way out here. I know you have the album release and your hometown tour. It was selfish of me.”

  Guilt and regret reflected in her beautiful face and just like that, all the anger and frustration I felt at her not telling me about this child we shared, melted away. In that moment, I fought the urge to take her in my arms and reassure her everything was going to be all right. We weren’t there yet and she herself had to come to the conclusion I would have come back for her, for them, no matter what I had going on in San Diego. No matter the way she told me, or when. I would come back to her.

  “It doesn’t matter now how or when you told me. I would have preferred to know before he was born but it doesn’t matter now. I meant what I said. You both need me here and I’m not leaving. Everything is sorted out back in California; my guys are taking care of it. I’m staying as long as you need me, as long as Christopher needs me.”

  Natalie shook her head again and I could see tears begin to gloss her eyes. “But your album and your tour,” she repeated.

  “None of that matters, Natalie. None of it.” I crouched in front of her, taking both of her hands in mine. “Christopher is my son and I’m not going anywhere.”

  The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t read her anymore; I couldn’t tell if she was upset because she didn’t want me here or because I came out to be with them. But that didn’t matter at all either because, like I said to her before, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  19

  Natalie

  I was ruining everything, again. I was being selfish and self-serving, and tearing apart people’s lives. Because of me, because I couldn’t control my impulse to contact Rhys, his whole life was turned upside down. His band’s life was in disarray. I knew this would happen, that he would leave everything for Christopher if he found out, and yet, I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. The loneliness that was pressing in on me got the best of me at the wrong time, but I deserved it and the pain that came with it. Rhys didn’t deserve to have his life uprooted and his career ruined for a woman and child he didn’t want or need. Rhys was a good guy, and I didn’t deserve a good guy.

  Once I managed to get my emotions under control, the guilt still gripping my chest but the sobs subsiding, I pulled my hands out of his. I wasn’t worthy of his comfort or pity. Besides, the heat that was spreading through my body at his touch was anything but appropriate, given the circumstances. I couldn’t find any words to say to him when rejection at my sudden withdrawal crossed his handsome face. Leading him on, when I had no rights to him or what he was offering, wasn’t something I wanted to do. It wasn’t something I needed to add to the list of wrongs I had done to Rhys over the months.

  “It’s really late. Maybe you should go get a hotel room and come back in the morning?” I sounded like I was dismissing him and tried not to cringe at the coldness in my own voice as I spoke. Rhys visibly winced and the guilt vise tightened.

  He stood up, brushing nonexistent lint from his dark jeans and folded his arms across his chest. “Right. You’re right. It’s been a long day. Is there anything you want me to bring you when I come back later?”

  Even after I rebuffed him, he was still trying to take care of me. The vise constricted even more.

  I shook my head emphatically. “No, I’m all right.”

  Rhys nodded. “Okay. I’ll find the closest hotel and get myself situated, but I’ll be back as soon as the sun is up. Call me if you change your mind.”

  It was my turn to nod, though I knew I wouldn’t take him up on it. “Okay.”

  He spun around and headed back out the way he came.

  “Rhys,” I called after him, because I had to let him know I wasn’t so unfeeling and selfish I couldn’t appreciate him coming all this way. “Thank you.”

  He gave me a small smile before disappearing around the corner.

  I hung my head, closing my eyes for a minute as tears clogged my throat for the hundredth time. Every time I thought I was making amends for the sins I committed most of my adult life, I did something else to mess it all up.

  * * *

  “I brought coffee.” Rhys’s voice carried through the small room, startling me from sleep. My head snapped up, but an ache in the back of my neck from being slumped in the chair made me stop short.

  My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. He was dressed in light distressed jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his lean muscles in all the right places, his face scruffier than usual and his sandy hair tousled. He looked like an angel, a devilish angel if that was even a thing. Lucifer himself.

  “Hey,” I managed to say when I composed myself enough to speak.

  I became very aware of my unkempt state when faced with how sexy he looked. My hand went to my hair, smoothing it back into the messy bun that was a permanent fixture on top of my head though I knew the effort was futile. I looked like hell. I didn’t need to see my reflection to know that. His eyes followed my motions and I dropped my hand into my lap, afraid he would know why I was so fidgety.

  “It’s from Starbucks,” he said as he handed me the Venti-sized disposable cup. “I figured you had enough of the nasty coffee from the hospital vending machine.”

  I nodded because vending machine food and drinks were the only sustenance I was living on these days.

  “Thanks. I haven’t had real coffee in over two months.” I took a sip, burning my tongue a little, but I didn’t care. I closed my eyes to savor the flavor. It tasted like heaven.

  “It’s been a while, huh?” Rhys said with a chuckle and my face grew warm with embarrassment.

  “I told you,” I said with a slight laugh, though I felt a little foolish to my reaction to a simple cup of coffee.

  Rhys held his hands up in front of his chest like he surrendered. “Hey, I’m not the guy to judge a person on their love of coffee. I can’t even get through the morning without at least two cups.”

  I chuckled this time, and it occurred to me this was the first time I had laughed since Christopher was born. A frown marred my face then because even though Christopher was improving every day—they even told me yesterday he may be able to breathe on his own soon—laughing and feeling happy felt wrong while he was laying in that incubator.

  “You don’t have to feel guilty, Natalie. This isn’t your fault,” Rhys said suddenly, as if he could read my thoughts.

  I shook my head, unable to tell him it was my fault, my karma. I doomed my child to suffering because I was so cruel to others. But I couldn’t tell Rhys that because I didn’t want to explain all the horrible things I had done in my life.

  “Sometimes the universe gives back what you give out,” I said cryptically.

  “I don’t know what that means, but I doubt that you or Christopher deserved this.” Rhys moved further into the room, perching on the arm of the chair where my father usually sat.

  “You barely know me,” I snapped. He was here for less than twenty-four hours, and already my emotions were all over th
e place.

  “You’re right, I don’t, but I would like to change that.” His voice was like a caress, velvety and deep, as he stared at me with his icy blue gaze. I wasn’t sure how a simple sentence could make me feel exposed, raw, and completely turned on.

  I looked away, at the coffee cup in my hand, as I tried to distract myself from the feelings that were coursing through me like a line of wildfires. This wasn’t right. I shouldn’t feel this way, not now. If Rhys being here was going to turn my feelings and emotions all upside down, we would be better off if he left.

  “Is that wrong?” His voice was closer, and I whipped my head in that direction. He was now perched on the arm of my chair, his body so close I could feel the heat of his thigh next to my arm. I could smell his scent and it was intoxicating.

  “Is what wrong?” I was so unnerved, I couldn’t even remember what we were talking about.

  Rhys smirked. “Is it wrong that I want to get to know you, Natalie?”

  Right. That’s what he said. I wanted to tell him yes, to run away as fast as he could before I destroyed him too but instead, I shook my head. “No,” I mumbled, because I didn’t believe it.

  “Why don’t I believe you?” How was he able to read me so well?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stood, feeling antsy in the small room with his body so close. Standing by Christopher’s incubator, I looked down at my son instead of at his father. It was easier if I didn’t have to look at him. Easier if I reminded myself what my reason for breathing was now.

  “You’ve been fighting this since we first met, Natalie. That night in the alley, you refused to talk to me afterwards, or even look at me. What are you so afraid of?”

  Rhys was right behind me again, and I felt his hand rest on my waist. The familiarity of it made my chest constrict, his touch setting the skin under my clothes on fire.

  “Rhys, there is so much for me to be afraid of now. Look at him.” I pointed to my son, our son. I wanted to shrug off his touch, but it was comforting even though my body’s response to him was also causing me unease.

  “The doctor told me he was doing well. Is that not true?” Rhys peered down at Christopher next to me, our heads close together. If we turned, our faces would touch.

  The room was suddenly too small and I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my sweatshirt was strangling me and I took a step back, far enough away I wouldn’t even be able to touch him if I stretched out my arm. Without caring that the t-shirt I wore under my Columbia hoodie was in worse shape than the sweatshirt, I ripped it off over my head and tossed it onto the chair, fanning myself with my hands to cool the fire in my blood.

  “Are you all right?” Rhys asked. He made no attempt to move closer, but I held up a hand anyway.

  “No,” I croaked, my throat feeling like it was closing. “I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay for two months, but who cares about how I am. There is only Christopher now. That’s all. You can’t just come here and turn everything on its head. I can’t deal with this, in addition to worrying about Christopher. I can’t.” The tears I was trying so hard to blink away began to fall down my cheeks, their hot tracks scorching me. I swiped at them, refusing to let him see me cry again, to see how vulnerable and unraveled I was.

  “Natalie,” Rhys said softly, like a prayer, and I closed my eyes against the fresh wave of emotion that built in my chest. Why was he able to do this to me with one word? It had to be the exhaustion and worry draining me and making me susceptible. It had to be.

  I shook my head rapidly, trying to keep more tears from falling. “If you want to be here, to see Christopher, to be involved, I won’t stop you. But please, please, I need space. I need to be able to breathe because every day that he is in that thing, hooked up to those machines, it feels like I have no air in my lungs.”

  Rhys nodded, stepping even further away from me. I could tell he was struggling with my request, that he wanted to come to me but was holding back. His hands were fisted at his sides and his jaw ticked with tension.

  “Fine. But I’m not leaving. I told you that already. I’ll stay away from you. For now.” Anger furrowed his eyebrows and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or him or the whole damn situation. I wouldn’t blame him for any of it.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, but I knew he heard me when he nodded.

  We both fell silent and I sat back down while he stood near Christopher. He stared at our son, and I could finally see the gravity of everything was taking hold as his face softened and he closed his eyes for a second. Rhys glanced back at me, sympathy replacing the anger on his face.

  “He’s so small.”

  “Yes. And he’s gained about a pound in the last two months. At the beginning, he was so small I was afraid he would break every time we touched him.”

  “We?” A hint of something, jealousy maybe, crept into his voice.

  “My dad and me.” He had nothing to worry about. Christopher and my dad were the only two men in my life. That was how I wanted it to be for a long time because I had a lot of healing and atoning to do.

  “Right. Has he been here with you much?” He returned his gaze to the incubator, resting his hand on top.

  “Yeah.” I watched as he drew little circles on top of the plastic. He was itching to touch the baby but wasn’t sure if he should. I knew the feeling. “Do you want to hold him?”

  Rhys swiveled his head quickly to look back at me. “Can I?

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ll go ask the nurse.”

  I stood up on shaky legs, wondering not for the first time today when the last time I ate was, but quickly releasing the thought because it was irrelevant. When I approached the nurse’s station, the nurse on duty, Marie, smiled at me weakly. They all gave the parents in the NICU the same pitying, sorrow-filled looks. It was obnoxious at first but now I was used to it.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked me warily.

  “Yes. I was wondering if Christopher’s father could hold him.” Once the words were out of my mouth, I realized what I had admitted to her. But it didn’t feel wrong. Rhys was his father and he had every right to be addressed as such.

  Shock lit her face for all of two seconds before she tucked it away. “Yes. Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  I could tell by her response she wasn’t sure until this very moment whether Christopher even had a father—a real father and not a sperm donor of one kind or another. We had been here for over a month and this was only Rhys’s second visit, so it wasn’t an unfair assumption. I ambled slowly back to Christopher’s cubicle, in no hurry to be confined in the small space with Rhys again. He was here for less than twenty-four hours and I was off kilter, out of my element. How could he make me feel this way? I should be focusing on Christopher. Guilt gripped me again and I wanted to double over from it. Would the guilt of the harm I caused never leave me?

  “Are you ready?” The nurse came up behind me, surprising me from my self-loathing.

  “Yes, sure.” I cleared my throat, feeling like my thoughts were on display for everyone to see.

  I followed her into the room but hung back. The nurse approached Rhys, speaking softly and gesturing towards the incubator.

  “Would you like to hold him, Dad?” Rhys’s eyes widened and he shot me a look. I gave him a weak smile, hoping to put him at ease. This was the first time someone referred to him as Dad, I could tell by the slight panic in his eyes.

  Rhys looked at me again, as if to ask if it was all right to hold the baby. He didn’t need my permission, but I appreciated that he deferred to me, considering he only found out about Christopher yesterday. I gave him a slight nod and he turned back to the nurse, the earlier panic in his eyes now replaced with something else I couldn’t decipher. Determination? Awe?

  The nurse flipped the top open on the incubator and gently lifted Christopher out before turning to Rhys with her arms outstretched. My heart was in my throat, just as it was every time they took him from the incubator, bu
t I also knew the human contact helped him learn to breathe on his own and regulate his own body temperature, among other things, so I sat down in my chair.

  I watched as Rhys took him in one arm gently, Christopher still so small he didn’t need two hands to support him. Rhys stood still, holding his arms stiff, like he was afraid Christopher would shatter like glass if he even breathed. I knew the feeling because it was the exact way I held him the very first time.

  “Do you want to sit?” the nurse asked Rhys, and she pointed to the chair next to mine.

  Rhys turned robotically, the expression on his face filled with fear, and looked towards the chair.

  “It’s okay, Rhys, he won’t break.” I was trying to reassure him but realized my comment sounded condescending. It was better for me to keep my mouth shut at this point.

  “Right. I know. I’m just nervous.” His candor was a relief, and I wished I could be honest with everyone the way Rhys had consistently been honest with me. About everything.

  “I know. I was too at first. It gets easier.”

  A small smile graced his full lips and he nodded. “Thanks. At least I’m not the only one.”

  The nurse exited the room silently, leaving us to be with our son.

  Our son.

  This was the first time I thought of Christopher as ours and not mine. I didn’t hate the idea like I thought I would. Truthfully, it wasn’t easy being alone in this, which was the main reason I called Rhys in the first place. Maybe I was finally ready to share Christopher with him, at least for my own peace of mine and sanity.

  Rhys moved slowly to the chair and sat, adjusting the way he held Christopher to a more comfortable position while minding the cords. I watched them as Rhys began to relax, staring at Christopher with amazement. My throat tightened and I had to look away. I cried enough in front of Rhys to last a lifetime and didn’t want to start back up again.